Seal Team Six Hunt the Wolf(84)
“Watch out, boss!”
Holding his KA-BAR knife ready, Crocker bent at the waist, trying to see through the thick murk. He saw someone raise a pistol, then a terrified look on Mancini’s face.
He dove for what he hoped was the terrorist’s arm, held it, and twisted it right. Two shots from the pistol reverberated in the half-open space and numbed his hearing.
Teeth sunk into his left shoulder.
Fucking savage!
“Manny, you all right?” All the while clubbing the side of the man’s head with his fist. Then he stumbled over a pair of legs and fell. Landed on his bum shoulder.
Fuck!
A stab of pain shot from his arm to the base of his head. From his vantage on the floor of the bridge, he saw a knife blade drag across a man’s throat. The thin ribbon of red grew wider.
“Manny, fuck—”
He held his breath and readied himself. His heart pounded; his arm, shoulder, and eyes burned.
“Boss, you still here?” the Italian American whispered.
Huge relief. “Hey, Mancini. How about you help me the fuck up?”
The gunfire had stopped. Both men were breathing hard, wheezing from the smoke.
“That was fun.”
“You see Ritchie?”
“He went inside to try to get the radio to work. Call for—”
A whooping sound.
“What the hell is that?”
Up ahead, past the bow, they saw two Saudi navy patrol boats approaching with wailing sirens.
“I’ll look for Ritchie,” Crocker said. “You try turning this piece of shit around.”
“Sure, boss.” Then, pointing at the patrol boats, “What about them?”
“What about ’em?” Crocker retorted, thinking that the Saudis had arrived with too little and were way too late.
As he pivoted to his right, an explosion went off in one of the cabins, throwing both him and Mancini to the floor.
“I’m getting tired of this shit,” the Italian American groaned from near the wheel.
Crocker’s ears were still ringing. “What’d you say?”
“Ears are fucked, right knee is screwed to shit again, but I’ll manage.”
Crocker saw something, or someone, emerging from the smoke-filled cabin and reached for his knife.
“Three o’clock!”
Mancini aimed his pistol and was about to pull the trigger when Crocker recognized the Nike footwear Ritchie favored. “Ritchie, that you?”
The dark-haired SEAL removed the blanket he’d thrown over his head and squinted. “Boss?”
“What’d you find?”
“Radio’s for shit. Some of the explosives are on a timer, so unless we want to get blown to pieces, we’d better abandon this shitbox. Like, now!”
Crocker turned to Mancini, who had his nose inches from the controls. Through the shifting smoke he could make out a professional navigator, a radar screen, charts, assorted gauges.
“You hear that, Mancini?”
“I need a minute,” the thickly built SEAL said, grasping the ship’s wheel.
“You know what you’re doing?”
“I don’t know this vessel specifically, but I haven’t met one yet that I couldn’t figure out.”
Crocker took some solace in the fact that the Italian American was one of the leading VBSS experts in Naval Special Warfare. His training had included practice in taking down ship bridges and engine rooms in everything from cruise ships to destroyers and supertankers.
Ritchie wasn’t happy. “No time for figuring shit out, right, boss?”
Crocker felt himself fading in and out of consciousness, and begged his mind to hang on for another minute or two.
“Motherfucker’s gonna blow any second!”
“What?”
“You hear me, boss? We’d better bail!”
“No…”
“No, what? Boss, can you hear me?”
Ritchie was holding him up.
“Manny…Rich…”
“Boss, what are you trying to say?”
“Go down to the main deck. Get Davis. You need to help him to the launch. It’s tied up midship. We’ll meet you on the starboard side.”
“You sure you don’t need help?”
“Quickly!”
As he spoke, he felt the ship shifting under his feet.
He looked through the smoke to see Mancini smiling like a kid who’d just discovered how a new toy works. “It’s like steering a big semi, but smoother. Really nice.”
“You got it turning?”
“Look.” The Italian American’s whole body was shrouded in gray-black smoke, which curled around his neck. Past his shoulders, through the windows, Crocker saw that the ship was veering northward.
“Excellent, Manny! Nice fucking work.”
“The Saudis sure seemed surprised.”